


Without So Much As A Thought

by Dots



Series: Persona Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira going with the flow when he really really shouldnt be, Confusion, Humor, M/M, Makeouts, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dots/pseuds/Dots
Summary: A week after the announcement of Akira’s death, a certain Goro Akechi walks into the café, leaving Akira with limited options and an exciting new high.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Persona Tumblr Prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815862
Comments: 19
Kudos: 339
Collections: Marigolds Discord Recs





	Without So Much As A Thought

**Author's Note:**

> For a tumblr prompt. "I don't owe you a damn thing."

Sojiro left to get cigarettes.

The café was quiet as usual. Akira tried to eat his curry as slowly as he could, savoring each bite like it was his last. His days were slow now, and tense. Eating was one way to fill up his time. Chew, swallow, repeat. Chew, swallow, don’t think about the yellow bruise on his jaw and how it aches when he bites, repeat.

Morgana lounged on the counter next to him. Akira would sometimes offer his spoon and let him lick off the remains. It felt normal, and it felt safe. Safe enough that he could take off his stuffy hood in there, confident that there was no one to hide his face from.

The announcement of his death had been just over a week ago. Thinking about it gave him a high, a tingling buzz in the back of his head. Another way to keep himself entertained during long mornings. He was buffered and bruised, but still up and kicking. It was easy to remember how hard his heart pounded, and how each pulse fueled his ego a bit more. He had been scared out of his mind, and that was just where the thrill lied.

But the highs would come down and the excitement would leave, and he would be left sitting in a café, laying low and silent. His only job now was to heal and prepare himself for their next battle. Which, as fun as a rush of adrenaline could be, was nice in itself. He could relax a while, switch himself onto a lower setting.

The door chimed, and Akira figured it must’ve been Sojiro back from his errands. He turned to nod a greeting. But, with a surprised spurt from Morgana he froze in his seat, faced with the walking and talking front of who he was supposed to be hiding from.

Goro Akechi stood at the door frame with a neutral expression as he scanned Leblanc up and down. Jacket done up neatly, gloves pulled on, he looked just as unbothered as he would when he’d made a habit of coming over before December.

Akira felt every muscle in his body tense. He’d let his guard down and was about to pay for it. His mind was moving a million miles a minute. He wondered if he could escape him. That, or he could go on the offence. Tie up Akechi and gag him, call the thieves and figure something out together. Though that wouldn’t be so easy, especially since he could have a gun on him. The thought gave him goosebumps.

Akechi looked him in the eyes, and Akira got ready to run. This was it. If he reached for his pockets, Akira could duck down and dodge, shove a chair in his way and run upstairs to the window. If he tried to jump him plain and simple, Akira could strike first, and maybe have Morgana make a swipe at his face. He could do this. _He could do this._

But Akechi did not reach for his gun. Nor did he take a step. In fact, he hardly moved at all, aside from his expression easing into something calm.

“Ah, good. I was worried you might be sleeping,” he said, instead of, “ _This is it, Kurusu! Time to die!”_ like Akira thought he would.

Akira stared at him. Had Akechi known he’d be here? Had he known he was _alive?_ He gulped and kept himself tense, trying to steady his breathing. He couldn’t get distracted here— if he missed something it could mean game over.

“Akechi,” Morgana sneered, his hackles beginning to raise. Akira barely spared him a glance. He idly hoped that at least he’d be able to get out safe. He could alert everyone else. That was, if Futaba wasn’t already listening in on their conversation.

He could feel Morgana’s animosity from where he sat. Akira knew he was thinking about protecting him, but he wished he wouldn’t. One of them had to get out of here unscathed; everyone was going to be in danger unless they did something. Akira could feel sweat beading on his forehead.

Akechi, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered. Shoulders lax, soft breaths. Akira had to fight feeling assured to his presence. He couldn’t afford to lose himself relaxing into his company. Not now.

“That’s quite the tone you’re taking with me,” Akechi sighed, shrugging. “Though, I’m not really surprised. I wouldn’t expect most to place their faith in me again.”

That was a peculiar line. At least it might’ve been. Akira hoped he wasn’t reading too deeply into his actions, but there was something about him right now. He wasn’t acting hostile, or even angry. It wasn’t like he was trusting him, but the whole atmosphere was off.

Akira felt his phone buzz several times in succession. He assumed that was Futaba. She’d probably picked up on Akechi being in the café. That was a relieving safety net. He couldn’t pick up now, though. His full attention remained on his personal headsman.

Akechi walked a few steps towards them. Akira maintained a very watchful eye, but didn’t try to make a run for it. His gut told him that this was the best move for now. He adjusted a bit in his seat, staying prepared to jump if he needed to.

But somehow, he was getting the feeling he wouldn’t. Akechi seemed _relieved_. Akira didn’t know what to make of it.

He looked Akira up and down, keeping that easy expression on his face. “At least you’re healing well. Not to say a ragged look isn’t befitting of you.”

Akira raised his eyebrows. In any other situation, he would’ve cooed back something snarky. But his mind was focused on trying to understand what he’d just meant. The pit in his stomach was diminishing with every word. What was going on? Why was he being so friendly?

Morgana beat him to asking. He clicked his tongue.

“What’s your game here, you _traitor_.”

Akechi’s expression didn’t falter. He hardly missed a beat. “My, is my visit really so unexpected? How peculiar. I presume you did explain to everyone, Akira-kun?”

No, he had not explained to everyone because Akira, undoubtedly, had no goddamn clue what was going on. This was the first time he had seen him in person since the palace. He hadn’t even tried to communicate with him, lest he get arrested and shot for real this time. There was absolutely no piece of conversation Akira had been able to catch onto.

But instead of expressing any of that, he said “Yup,” and added, “Morgana’s just a little testy right now,” as an afterthought.

“Wha—” Morgana stuttered, not hopping on to Akira’s new and very quickly improvised plan of “ _well, might as well see where this goes.”_ If Akechi wasn’t shooting up Leblanc, then what could the harm be? He ignored the dam in the back of his mind keeping back all the certainly harmful ideas.

Akira acted like he didn’t hear Morgana, and tried to adopt a more relaxed pose. He hoped he’d realize, but if he didn’t, that would be okay too. Morgana was easy to play off, and Akira was nothing if not intrigued.

His phone buzzed again. A little more fanatically. _Sorry, Futaba._ Right now wouldn’t be the best time to yank it out and explain himself. She’d need to hold on a little longer.

Akechi grinned, looking satisfied. Akira considered that a big plus in the bullshitting direction.

“I see. Perhaps I’m on edge, too. Though really, with all the hoops I’ve jumped through for you, can you blame me? I’ve done a bit more than lounge around as a café pet.”

Morgana’s tail shot straight up. “Don’t call me a pet!”

Akechi chuckled, and Akira smiled a bit. It was very familiar, and Akira had to remember not to sink into the feeling. He tried to keep his head up and ready, since this could still be an elaborate scheme on Akechi’s part, but he’d already missed this. He’d already missed _him_. It wasn’t going to be easy to fight him again, if it came down to it.

Akechi leaned down to Akira’s level. Akira, in turn, propped his chin up on his fist. Performative, but natural. It made Akechi’s grin spread wider.

“I’d like to speak with you privately, if you don’t mind?” Akechi said, syrupy and smooth.

Akira knew one thing for sure. Agreeing to this would be a very, very bad idea. Whatever trick Akechi had up his sleeve was a card none of them had seen before, and one that no one had anticipated.

But there _was_ something weird going on. There were better and more efficient methods of going out for Akira’s head than this. Akechi didn’t seem like the type to bother with small talk, especially not after he’d already tried to kill him once. His motives were already known, so there was unquestionably something up _._

And Akira couldn’t deny how excited he was getting, either.

“Sure,” he said, earning himself a pointed look from Morgana and another flurry of texts. He ignored them both in favor of his swelling suspicions. He decided he would take this as far as it could go. Who knows, this could save their necks, even.

Akechi stepped back a bit. “Then lead the way.”

Akira scooted out of his chair and rolled his shoulders back. Morgana was looking back and forth between them frantically.

“Wait, what? Where’re you going?” Morgana stammered, his tail now flicking nervously. “You’re gonna go with _him_? _Alone_?”

Akira tried to give him a confident look, that he knew was probably not going to do Morgana any favors. “Watch the café for me.”

“Huh!?”

The two of them walked upstairs, leaving Morgana to fend for the café himself. Akira did feel bad, but it wasn’t like he could sit him down and explain his plan (that “plan” being basically nonexistent anyway) with Akechi around. It might be easier to do this on his own, too. Akechi was notoriously difficult to figure out, and he’d need to be on the lookout for any stray hint he could get.

Akira sat down on the foot of his bed and, to his surprise, Akechi joined him there. They were shoulder to shoulder, though not quite touching. Akechi tended to keep his distance, so if there were any concrete indicators that he was acting up right now, this was one.

Akechi set his briefcase down in front of them. He gave way a long exhale, and Akira could literally watch the tension leave his shoulders. It was nice to see if he was being honest.

They were silent for a little while. It was almost a nervous quiet, but not in a jarring way. It was light and anticipating. An all around pleasing mood, which made it hard for Akira to stay on his toes.

“I appreciate you putting up with my antics,” Akechi started, breaking their shared silence. He didn’t meet his eyes. “But you can imagine this hasn’t been the easiest cover up.”

Akira didn’t reply. He needed to know more before he tried to make a counter. Akechi was smart and observant, and Akira knew that if he slipped up that this could turn sour. Though, that was a sound start. More confirmation that Akechi for whatever reason did not think Akira had died.

He continued. “I didn’t think you’d listen when I asked you to keep from contacting me. Though I’m glad you did, because I think there’s a chance I’ve been hacked.”

Akira almost flinched, thinking about how that hacking was definitely the work of Futaba. He was surprised Akechi had noticed. But, he’d probably argue something among the lines of _you can never be too thorough,_ to which Akira would laugh in his face, him being the biggest loose end that had ever escaped his grasp.

He thought more on the first half of his spiel. Akechi had, allegedly, _asked_ him to do something. He wracked his brain for any memory of a conversation they’d had like that. Akira was prone to hanging on to their interactions. It seemed really unlikely that he would miss something so important. And even while he’d been drugged in the interrogation room, he had been more than aware enough to remember that Akechi had never paid him a visit. The only “Akira” Akechi had seen was his cognitive form.

That train of thought caught Akira’s attention. His cognitive form?

Akechi carried on undisturbed. “That’s why I didn’t text you before I came, by the way. I’ve been too busy to get it checked out. And your identity being revealed is too big of a risk for the both of us.”

Akira was hardly listening. He thought he might be onto something. If their plan had gone accordingly, then the last time Akira had seen Akechi was in the palace. But the last time Akechi saw, or _thought_ he saw Akira, was in the interrogation room.

“I understand that I’m the reason you ended up in that situation, but you know we can use this position to our advantage, don’t you?”

Which meant, whatever last interaction Akechi remembered he had with Akira was actually with the cognitive form of him in Sae Nijiima’s cognition.

“We probably share a similar goal now, anyway. Though, don’t think I’m going to change my stance just like that. I have a way I plan to go about things.”

Akechi should’ve killed that cognitive form of Akira. But there _could_ be a chance that wasn’t the case, no matter how small. And if that was so, then…

“I am willing to make a sort of compromise with you. But, compromise means both sides are satisfied, so you must also let me have my own leeway.”

What had the cognitive Akira done with Akechi that Akira didn’t know about?

“...Akira-kun? Are you alright?”

Akira jolted. He looked at Akechi straight in the eye. What had he been saying? He’d gotten too lost in his own thoughts.

Akira blinked a couple times. Yes, he was fine. Start there.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, which only made Akechi look more suspicious. Okay, shit. He needed a reason why he’d been spacing out. “No, I am, it's just… um. It’s nice to see you again, is all.”

Which wasn’t a lie. He _was_ very happy Akechi was here with him. Nothing had stung more than his betrayal. The idea that they’d found a way to come to an understanding was fantastic. But that was like a single match in a dark tunnel. Figuring out his cognitive form had done something to convince Akechi to (...probably?) not kill him was great; but making this work was going to take more effort than that.

His reply got more of a reaction out of Akechi than expected. It made him gulp and look down at his hands.

“Ah, well. Yes, it’s good to see you too. I must say it was a relief to see you had made it out just fine. Not that I expected any less.”

He was fiddling with his fingers a bit. Akira fixated onto the motion. A nervous habit? Why was he nervous? He’d never really seen him like this before. Which could mean, maybe, his cognitive form had?

Okay, he was not about to be jealous of a cognition of himself. He didn’t even know what he’d _done_ in there. Jumping to conclusions was the wrong way of going about this.

He tried thinking about what he’d told Sae-san, but that night had gone by in a haze. He must’ve given off some sort of impression to her that made the cognition figure out a way to dispel Akechi’s attempted murder. Maybe it would be better to think what he might say while on a load of drugs.

Not... an encouraging thought. He could’ve said almost anything if that was the standard. Had he convinced her that he was a stellar conman? Or, like, a ninja? If he made it out of this interaction alive and well he’d have to give her a call. Maybe it would be a little awkward, but he’d done worse.

It was still silent between the two of them. Okay, new goal. Akira only needed to last long enough that he could excuse himself to use the phone. The way this was going, he would probably be fine. Akechi mentioned he was busy, so he’d probably be on his way soon anyway.

Akechi sighed and tucked his arms into himself, making no moves to give up his spot. Akira wondered if he could bring up work or something to get him to go. He felt bad forcing him out, but hurt feelings didn’t matter much when it was his life on the line. Though he looked kind of… delicate (was that the right word? He didn’t know. Less stable than usual, maybe. Not to say he usually gave off emotionally steady vibes) at the moment. Maybe he could make him lunch or something to make up for it. Assuming they’d get that far.

Before Akira could try and really nicely kick him out, Akechi filled the silence again.

“I know this is presumptuous of me to say, but perhaps have you not picked up on my motive for making myself known to you?”

How many times could Akira think _ah, shit_ today? Yup, you guessed it Akechi, Akira had absolutely no idea why he had come to Leblanc. He couldn’t exactly just say that. Especially since Akechi seemed almost fragile (was _that_ the right word? Eh.) right now. Like the question had some hidden meaning. He’d always been one for games, but this was a different side to Akechi.

“What do you mean?” Akira asked, deciding that this was the most ambiguous answer he could give. He leaned forward onto his knees, and it made Akechi tense up.

He looked away. “Don't get any ideas. I simply need to understand your… stance on the matter, first.”

His tone was conflicted (was it? Fuck. Words, Akira, find the right ones). And he’d swear up and down his ears were pink. _That_ was new. Not conflicting, though.

“You wanna tell me yours first, detective?” Akira grinned. Maybe teasing was the way to go. Nothing unnatural about it; he had joked with him all the time before. He hoped his confidence would outshine his being utterly clueless.

“I’d rather your opinion, actually,” said Akechi, the pink tinting his cheeks now. “Do not tell me I came all this way for nothing.”

He was as difficult as ever. Not that Akira minded. He wondered how far he could push it.

“You know, I was pretty drugged up. I might need a little hint, here.”

Akechi turned and glared at him. “Whatever enjoyment you’re getting out of this isn’t going to last.”

It had always proved pretty amusing to poke fun at him. Akira really had missed their bits of banter. He still remembered feeling so low whenever he thought about where they’d been headed. Akira was pleased to know he’d been a little right, and a little wrong. Right enough for the thrill, wrong enough for the aftermath.

“I mean it. I have no idea where we left off,” he said, making his tone something baited. He knew he wouldn’t get away with it, but it was always worth a try.

Akechi narrowed his eyes further. “You know I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either,” Akira replied with a cool head. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Akechi smirked. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

Akira sat back up. Had anyone ever gotten anywhere without a little playful prying? “You’re not getting an answer out of me unless I get something to work with.”

A short moment of silence hung. Akechi must’ve been considering ( _considering_ felt close. It was on the tip of his tongue) something. They were staring at each other. Before this, Akira had barely noticed how deeply red Akechi’s eyes were. He could tell something was going on behind them, processing (maybe?), evaluating (he was always doing that, though), thinking.

“You are the worst kind of tease, you know,” he said.

And then his lips were on Akira’s.

Oh.

(Okay.)

Goddamn.

Akira was the type who prided himself on quick thinking. He could be up on his feet in no time, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. So now, while his mind froze at temperatures below sub zero, his body was more than happy to return the kiss, keeping only his last remaining pieces of competence shining loud and proud.

Had he expected a kiss? No. Not at all.

Was he upset about it? Also no.

They broke apart for a moment, and Akira tried very hard not to let his shock show. When Akechi’s eyes lightly opened, they must’ve been pleased with whatever they saw, because a coy grin spread across his face. And what could’ve been some relief, too.

“Satisfied, now?” he asked.

Akira was left with two options (well, not really, but he pretended that was the case): One, was to tell Akechi there must’ve been a misunderstanding and that, boy, he sure was glad Akechi hadn’t murdered him, and just maybe they could work all this out over a cup of coffee. Go downstairs and talk through this, no guns or knives, just two boys and a cat and some curry, too. Hey Akechi, no hard feelings, but not this time around, buddy.

Or, there was the ever present option two:

“Not yet,” Akira hummed, and leaned back in for another.

It was longer, and deeper this time. Akira pushed further, ignoring the adamant pain in his jaw from his bruise. Akechi squirmed underneath him in surprise. They started slow and easy. Akira turned and put one hand on Akechi’s waist. For a moment Akechi’s hands were nowhere, before settling on the back of Akira’s neck, tentative but secure.

Akira decided that he’d forget about what his cognitive form may or may not have done for now. He was going to keep enjoying this. There _was_ an inkling telling him this was probably his sought after answer, given Akechi’s welcoming reaction. How his cognitive self achieved this would be a mystery forever, but man, what a guy the version of himself in Sae-san’s head was. Atta boy.

It did occur to Akira that the phone call he’d planned to give her might’ve turned out more than uncomfortable. A smooch or two with Akechi was a much better method to figuring this out, among other things. He wondered if it would be inappropriate to thank her. Probably.

He pushed again, but this time was met with some force. They were leaning into each other now, already breathing heavy and taking whatever pauses they could to gasp for breath. Akira slid his hand higher onto Akechi’s side, and with a tug he grabbed a fistful of his jacket to pull him in closer. Akechi’s fingers stayed pressed into the nape of Akira’s neck, but every so often would climb a bit higher towards his hair.

Akira put one hand on Akechi’s chest and pulled them apart for a moment. Akechi looked confused, and a bit concerned when Akira took the second to massage his jaw with his other hand. But as he applied force onto Akechi, he got the picture and started to lay down, and even loosened his tie. Akira swung his leg over his body, straddling him and earning a quiet, “Oh,” before planting his forearms over Akechi’s head and closing the space between them.

Akechi’s hands looped around Akira’s arms, and ended up taking their place back in his hair, getting wrapped and tangled in the curls. It was heavier now, and hotter, as they moved in sync and melted deeper into each other.

Akira had no idea how much time passed. He stayed there in the moment, blissfully at a loss but unarguably having one of the best afternoons he could’ve asked for.

But then, of course, rang a voice so shrill and so loud, he realized it was possible this hadn’t really been the time.

“HUH!?”

Morgana sounded completely exasperated. He was standing on the top of the stairs, eyes wide and his mouth hung open. Entirely still. He must’ve gotten worried about Akira having been up here with Akechi for so long without so much as a word.

The three of them stared at each other in silence. No one made a move. Morgana was obviously processing something he didn’t know how to understand. Akira felt a little nervous to look down and see whatever expression Akechi was making. If murder hadn’t been going through his head before, it surely was now.

Morgana stumbled. “What’re you— you’re— Akira…?”

Akira was going to once again try and flex his bullshitting mastery, but instead Akechi very loudly cleared his throat, and lightly shoved Akira back until he could sit upright.

“I, ah, really should be getting back, anyway,” he said, fixing his tie while Akira finished awkwardly climbing off of him. “I wasn’t joking when I told you I was busy, after all.”

His voice was stable and clear, but he was flushed pink and refusing to make any sort of eye contact. Akira decided not to comment, at least not while Morgana was still here. His poor cat seemed a little traumatized as it was; he didn’t need to witness any witty flirting.

That wasn't the finisher, though. No end in sight for Akira’s day of twists and turns. A few moments later none other than Futaba bursted upstairs, out of breath and with a wild look in her eyes. It occurred to him that he shouldn’t have totally ignored her texts.

“Is everyone still alive!” she shouted, arms wide in front of her. She glanced between the group, and relaxed her pose when she saw the very mundane-looking scene in front of her. Thank god Akira wasn’t on top of Akechi anymore. Morgana seeing was one thing, Futaba was another. He didn’t even want to _think_ about what Sojiro would do if he found out Akira had made Futaba witness teenage hormones at their finest.

She slumped down and looked at Morgana. “What the heck, Mona,” she sighed, looking a little embarrassed. “What’d you scream for? I got all worried.”

Morgana tried to justify himself. “Because of them! They were…” he trailed off. He was acting so sheepish. It occurred to Akira he may not actually know the word to describe what he’d just witnessed. He almost snorted, but had enough tact to realize that wouldn’t be so proper at the moment. He could laugh about it later.

“‘They were’ what?” Futaba asked, turning and leering at the pair. Akechi was flattening his hair a little, and Akira was trying to remain as stone faced as possible. She scowled.

Akira felt like he could see the gears turning in her head, which was a bad sign. More of an awkward sign, really, because Akira didn’t actually care much if they knew. He was gonna tell them a slightly modified version of the story after he’d finished, anyway.

Akechi, on the other hand, seemed like he absolutely _would_ mind if this all unfurled in front of him. He stood up just a little too quickly to be casual, and straightened his jacket.

“I’d ought to go now, then. Thank you for having me,” he said, adjusting his gloves. He picked up his briefcase and made his way for the exit, fast paced and wide steps. Akira watched him with entertainment, and Futaba’s eyes followed him every step of the way.

He stopped in front of the staircase, and waited there for a moment. Akira wondered what he was gonna do. His mind worked in very particular ways, and Akira was surely interested in such a flustered (hm. Maybe that was it) version.

He turned back and faced him head on. “I’ll come again. I’d argue that didn’t quite serve as a suitable answer.”

Futaba’s eyes darted between them. “What do you mean _‘answer,’_ ” she said, furrowing her eyebrows a little more as she tried harder to connect the dots.

Akira nodded in reply, and Akechi smiled something sweet, but just about devious, too. He walked out of view without another word, and the room was silent until the chime of the door opening and closing signaled his exit.

Futaba did not waste a second. She zipped over to Akira, followed closely behind by Morgana, who leapt onto the bed.

Futaba squatted down. “Okay, Akira. First of all, what. And then second of all, hey, _what._ ”

Akira wasn’t exactly sure what to reply. _Hot damn_ , while appropriate, would probably not exactly satisfy Futaba. More than anything he’d probably gross her out. And spark a million more questions.

She must’ve been confused for a number of reasons, very much like Morgana, and like himself too. Ultimately, yeah, he had no idea why he’d just had a passionate make out session with Goro fucking Akechi, of all people. He admitted that it did go swimmingly, though. And he obviously wouldn’t say no to a round two. Or three. Honestly, why limit himself by putting a number on it.

This was an unexpected turn of events, for sure, but definitely an advantageous one. Genuinely and acutely having Akechi on their side was not a problem at all. And occasionally steaming it up on his bed was, more than anything, an improvement to their previous relationship. Akira couldn't say he minded one bit.

It was dangerous, too. He needed to give Sae-san a call still, no matter how weird it might turn out. And he had to let everyone else know that, for whatever reason, Akechi was willing to work with them, to at least some sort of extent. That Akechi was pretty mellow right now, and did not think for a second he’d gone through with the murder.

Akira had to be doubtful of him. He didn’t have a choice in that. But he decided it was more than worth seeing where this would take him. Not to mention way more fun.

Futaba sat staring at him with beady eyes from the floor. Morgana looked no less shaken than before, but was waiting impatiently for Akira’s answer, too.

There was really no use lying.

“Well,” Akira started, shrugging his shoulders and feeling just a bit greedy. “I think I have a boyfriend now.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [honeydots](https://honeydots.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [honey_dots](https://twitter.com/honey_dots)


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